


13: Till Morning

by TheLastFounder



Series: Master of Nothing [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Neverland Dark Fantasy, A Twisted Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Violence, Dead Men Tell Tragic Tales, F/M, Harry is Captain Hook, Insane Fairies, Intended to Have Loose Ends, Lovecraftian Influences, Magic, Master of Death Harry Potter, Monster Peter Pan, Neverland (Peter Pan), Not Beta Read, Reincarnated Harry Potter, Reincarnation, Undead Lost Boys, We Die Like Men, part of a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastFounder/pseuds/TheLastFounder
Summary: For the 13th life of Harry Potter, he was not born in the world he has known, or even one of fantasy or mirth.Instead, he is left adrift at sea in an uncaring world, monsters taking what little hope persisted on the tides as he struggles to find ground for revenge.With allies both human and beyond, he sets forth to put an end to a nightmarish beast beyond imagination that takes the soul of those both young and old.An undead demon of flesh and flight, known as Peter Pan.
Series: Master of Nothing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079328
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	1. The Boy

**LIFE 13: TILL MORNING**

* * *

_“Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life, if you will **sacrifice** everything else for it.” _

_― J.M. Barrie_

* * *

I doubted that I would ever understand my curse, to be so removed from any hope of an afterlife that I would live such an awful immortality.

Life after life, I was forced along a track of misery, reinvention, and experiences that some would ever imagine, let alone live. 

I had fought the very fabric of reality, killed those that would seek to pervert death itself, and put to right wrongs that had existed for millennia.

I had been hero, villain, and savior too many times to count now, and enjoyed it only so often. 

And now, in yet another life, I was drowning.

Usually I awoke in a life either through birth or through sleep, but now I woke to the world beneath the waves, the crash of a storm far above as I felt the waters crash and scream from the lightning dancing atop it.

With no great agony I swam upwards, my bruised hands reaching up to break the surface of my prison and set sight on the dreary life of night, my soaked eyes bracing to the frigid air. 

A ship, one far detached from the modern world, with sails black and fearsome, stood illuminated in the storm. 

With the waves throwing me ever onward, I fought against the current to reach the ship, a blessed salvation from the carnivorous sea. 

Finding a strong and able rope dangling from the side of the vessel, I heard screams over the raging winds, calls for action and speed to combat the disaster I now found myself tangeled into.

With no regard for if I was walking into danger or something far worse, I pulled with all my might to scale the side of the ship through its wild motions, the rope burning my skin as it tossed me around through the air.

With great difficulty and no little effort, I finally found myself being pulled onto the ship by strong hands as someone realized I was there.

“Thought we lost ya there lad!” A disgruntled looking man yelled to me over the fierce winds, his hair unruly and tangled as we took cover against the bow, others of similar standard running and working across the deck as rain fell upon us like stones from a cliff.

“Where am I!?” I called back to him as he held my shoulder to ground me, my arms thin and weak as I took stock of my surroundings, the man so much taller than I was that it was clear to tell.

I was a child, once again.

“Must have hit your head lad, we’re on the Sea Devil! Capn says the storm’s not set to last, so find yourself a safe spot and ride it out!” The man said in turn as he began to run down to the cabin, the figure of a man highlighted against a captain’s wheel lit up against the bright sky above us, the storm exploding the world around us as water billowed down onto me. 

Unlike the few times that I took the place of someone else, there was no flood of memories or explanations, merely the storm and the grizzled men around me.

It was clear that I was in no time that I had known before, possibly even before Arno or Morris, though I had great doubts I could be as far back as Walsei. Only later in that life had naval pursuits grown anywhere near as advanced as the ship I found myself on now, evidently one of the crew judging by the words of the man that had helped me aboard.

Shit, I was probably a cabin boy, or some other embarrassing job as a young boy wasn’t essential or even useful to the running of a vessel of this size, yet alone wanted. 

However, I knew I wasn’t on a privateer’s vessel, as these men around me were definitely not of the King’s Navy, or any other to sail the seas, something far different than the crew that I had once called my own. 

Seeing the black flag flying over my head, the scuff and filth of the men around me and the kraken that sat affixed as the figurehead, it was all too clear.

I was a pirate.

* * *

1672.

King Charles the II and Louis XIV were off waging war and tyranny over their neighbors and men and monsters were profiting off their lack of notice as the seas became a battlefield of epic and treacherous proportions. 

Interestingly enough, I didn’t have a name in this world, having been called boy from birth to rise, going fourteen years without being called something other than an insult.

Looking for a way out of the drudgery that life had been at home, I had caught the eye of a man in a marketplace and eagerly begged to join his crew on the open seas, to change my luck around and take rather than be taken from.

Avery Compton, otherwise known as Erdrich, was amused and took pity on the poor boy and offered him a spot on his crew, not too harsh or cruel of a place considering the time.

Traveling in pursuit of a sunken vessel that left but a single survivor, Captain Compton had led us on a star chart that led to dangerous and vile waters, but the Sea Devil had persisted until a storm began to brew and strike the Earth.

The Men had panicked and ran to their posts as the heavens began to scream down on us, and through the chaos of the storm their youngest member had been thrown into the brink as many had before him.

Doomed to a watery grave, that was where I came into the picture, literally hoisted out of the darkness below and into a world rife with conflict and merriment. 

What a time to find myself in, where personal hygiene was a joke and civil rights were a pipe dream. 

Had to be better than dealing with the Plague…

* * *

“Make way for the Capn!” The first mate, a man by the name of Blainery said with conviction and boom as Compton made his way down to us, the men freezing in their places as the sun beamed down on our heads.

Such blistering weather after a terrible storm, we had no luck at all on this damned voyage.

“We wavered through the storm, but our troubles do not cease. Still we’re some days away from the wreck of the Maria, least where we’ve heard it went down. Keep steady lads and we’ll be there by journey’s end and the richer for it.” He said sternly yet warmly as he gestured to the crew who only nodded in turn, Blainery following the captain back off deck as the crew grew to whisperings.

Most wondered what the Maria carried, the selfish King’s most prized vessel having been struck down mid journey to France, and all it’s untold fortune lost with it.

The one survivor had spoke of horrors and tragedy, yet that did nothing to convince the pirates of the seas to ward off, superstitious they may be, willing to lose out of a payload that big?

They were not.

I found myself becoming friends with the doctor of the crew, Charles Stafford, an educated man that had fallen in with Compton and eventually joined him on the seas, and he remained one of the few good conversationalists on board that I didn’t mind talking with.

From literature to happenstance, he and I found ourselves conversing when neither he nor I had work to be done, and it made things much more bearable over all, having a kindred spirit to burn time with.

I was too weak to do hard labor, too young to be trusted to make able decisions for the crew, and not yet mature enough to be allowed to partake in any of the goods we had gotten thus far.

How I longed for a single glass of rum, yet I had somehow found myself on the one pirate crew too virtue driven to let a boy drink… 

My luck would never cease to amaze me in its horrible nature. 

“So Mister Stafford, did the man say what made the Maria go down?” I asked the doctor, the two of us sitting below deck as the day went on, neither of us needed as the men had found a rare moment of rest as the winds fared well.

Knowing Stafford was one of the few that would know, my mind had been eager to learn what had driven one of the finest ships in Britain beneath the waves.

“Well young Harrison, in all likelihood it was a ship much akin to this one, but that man… he had spoke of a horror from a world beyond.” The doctor said then with some bluster as I sat beside him, my head whirling in thought at that description. 

Of course I had devised a name for myself, as this life had been nameless thus far, the crew referring to me as boy or lad beforehand.

I wouldn’t choose boy as a name after all I had lived, so I merely adopted a name for my own.

Harrison James Black, a fine name and one I had taken before, and the crew had eagerly said it fit me well considering the times. 

However, this talk of horrors intrigued me as I had spent several lives hunting and purging the world of evil, and had considered myself a pro thus far at saving lifes.

“Did he describe this beast doctor?” I had asked then in interest, wondering if I had landed in another world where a Kraken or some other foul creature traveled the dark waters around us.

Stafford looked at me then in wary, obviously thinking of whether to divulge such horrors to a mere boy, but his urge to finish the tale won over.

“The man, in what moments of sensibility he had, spoke of a boy. Not much younger than you actually, with brazen hair like fire that lept on the deck of the Maria. The men had been confused, asking after the boy and his name. The man said that this… boy, laughed at them then, this cold and menacing giggle, and they… the men were alarmed as an army of lifeless bodies climbed onto the ship, and dragged each and every single one of them off into the sea. The survivor had been the first mate, who watched as the boy walked to the captain, and asked him a question as they pulled their swords. Apparently the captain answered wrong, and the boy grabbed hold of the man, and flew off with him into the air.

The last crewmen looked on in horror as the boy lifted the captain far into the air, the poor soul struggling and flailing in the boy’s arms, before dropping him.”

The two of us sat in silence then as the world around us shook with every wave, and I just considered the frankly morbid tale I had been told, and just groaned at the fact that Compton obviously had heard the same story.

Despite the fact that this was just asking for trouble, of course he decided we just had to hunt down a ship that had been decimated by literal monsters.

So much for fortune and glory, as all it seems we sailed for was a watery grave.

The days passed in such a way that it made keeping track difficult, a crate below deck becoming my way of passing time as I made a new etch for each day aboard.

I had spent fifteen days on the ship, completely unaware of what day or even month that it was, only knowing it was early in the year and the season had yet to pass over into the next.

I knew we sailed on the Atlantic, but where in those waters I had no way of knowing, merely that the days were long and the waters just as violent as I had come to expect.

Of course, some days were a blessing and clear skies and calm nights were found, but others we fought against nature itself to continue on our way.

I had sailed this very ocean once more, but then as a captain of prestige and with a crew much more skilled than the one I found myself in now, but I did find a certain charm in these men.

They were honest and hard working, life having given them grief at some point and they found that making their fortune on the tides beat whatever worthless ventures they had pursued on land.

Honestly, I had no real reason to fight or seek something else, as I found this a beautiful opportunity.

To sail the seas during the Golden Age of Piracy, long before things would all go horribly wrong and the oceans would be tamed by ruthless greed and bureaucracy, to live free and fast on the waves.

Of course, it would be even better if our captain wasn’t determined to sail into seemingly cursed waters where a nightmarish apparition sank and destroyed all that wandered into its cove.

I had wondered if it would be better to simply Imperio the captain, have him change his mind and sail for safer waters, but a damn curious part of my mind wondered what the demon that had struck had really been.

Curiosity did in fact kill the cat, but satisfaction would always bring it back.

* * *

We were still a few days out from Verlerrie cove, the place that the Maria had been said to go down at, but I could not displace this feeling of dread that had sunk into me.

I did not have any exact reasoning behind it, aside from hearing the story of the damned crew, but I felt something… familiar set into my bones.

The Captain assured us that all was well, that ghosts and specters were the things of madman ramblings and that it had been a crew that took the Maria down, and that we had no reason to worry as we could defend ourselves well enough from any foolish ships that dared face us.

Listening with bated breath, I knew the death of the Sea Devil would not come with cannon fire or some other battle of blood or fate, but much more sudden and cruel.

And still, the Captain and crew stayed in high spirits, most of the men eagerly following the captain’s example of discarding their worries in favor of something more valiant and useful, such as keeping the ship stable and living as we sailed on.

Each night, I merely turned over the story Stafford had told inside my mind, wondering of what beast or ghoul could do something like it had done. 

Command legions of the dead at their beck and call, to fly as able as any bird, and to arrive so silently and wickedly as it supposedly had.

Only a laugh being spared at the screams and fear of the poor men it had slaughtered. 

When Stafford had been so kind to pass onto me a gift, I found myself with a journal to keep a log, and a quill to mark it with.

For once, I was quite thankful for the strenuous lessons McGonagall had forced on me of proper etiquette and penmanship as I had found myself in too many a life where a pen had been but a wished upon concept rather than useful reality.

Fortunately, as the crew fell so swiftly behind the captain’s guiding hand, there was no hint of mutiny among the crew and none so much questioned his direction and goal.

However, that might actually be a bad thing, as if the tale the doctor had told me of a devilish child slaughtering a crew in the night like it was a mere game was true, then the ship was doomed and us along with it.

However, much to the fortune of the captain and his crew, they weren’t entirely doomed to their fates, as they had been so very lucky to receive the one person that could tip the tides.

Me, if I wasn’t too smug in thinking, as I had lived for a collective thousand years or so, and I doubted that a ghost and some zombies would be enough to take me down. 

They hadn’t yet.

* * *

“All hands on deck!” Captain Compton had yelled out into the night, the men suddenly springing into action as before our very eyes a sound had broken through the merry singing of the current ditty, dragging us all back to harsh reality. 

We had been sailing as usual, but the Captain had been proud of us finally reaching Verlerrie, the crew’s spirits high and rising as drinks had been had and the morale had never been higher. 

The First mate had been scouring through his spy glass for any sign of the Maria’s wreckage as I had merely been giving a hand to anyone that needed it, when things had turned for the worse.

Through the sound of joyous calls and song, a shrill voice echoed out into the night.

A youthful and vibrant sound, but cold and sharp as the crew fell silent, some holding their hands on their blades as the ship slowed to a crawl.

Looking off into the night, I began to pull my magic together, a faint red glow growing in my hands as I looked around, not afraid of revealing my talents as I had been before.

The crew feared the supernatural, as any sane man or woman should, but I no longer felt such a hesitation. If I could save them from whatever specter of the night wavered, then I would easily gain their allegiance and have no need to worry.

Looking after the alarmed sound to my right, I laid eyes on a new addition to the deck, a young boy not too dissimilar to myself now stood before me.

The boy was a redhead, similar to many I had met before, but the ragged and weathered rags that clung to him were far from normal.

His skin was pale as chalk, dark veins traveling along his body as I took notice of the clawed fingers that rested at his side, a curved and broken blade tied to his waist.

With blood red eyes that spoke of madness and joy, the boy looked directly at me then, the crew making not a single sound as he took a step towards me, blood staining his emerald attire as he came ever closer. 

And laughed.

This horrible and frightening thing, more of a maddening giggle than anything let loose by happiness or glee, but something menacing and painful growing from his throat.

I was shoved aside by one of the men then, his blade drawn as he took a swipe at our laughing intruder, only to pause in fear as the impossible happened right before our eyes.

The cutlass, sharp and well managed as it had been, shattered to pieces on the boy’s stone-like skin like it had hit the densest diamond.

With an alarmed breath, the man took a step back with his hilt in hand, as a silence fell over all of us as the boy’s laughter finally cut out, and he let loose a whistle.

Before we could even react, all around us figures began to rise up from over the ship’s edge, pale and undead as they drew closer.

Rather than men of death and gore, these were mere children of all kinds, boys of varying ages that ran towards us with blades as fierce as the hunger in their eyes.

The first boy just watched in glee as his minions began to tear through the pirates, but I was not going to let the same fate as the Maria’s crew suffered be repeated onto us.

With no thought onto the matter aside from cold focus, I held my hands out to the boy and called out over the screams of my fellows.

“Bombarda!”

An explosion rocketed out from my hands, a beam of crimson light blasting clean through the chest of the monstrous boy, his innards clear to see through the hole I graciously left in him.

And yet as his blood began to pool below him, he just stood there and laughed at me, as unbothered as if I had blown nothing but air at him.

“Avava Kedavra!” I cried then, overcoming my hesitation to give another attempt at putting this beast to rest, only for the emerald energy to wash clean over the undead monster before me.

Then, it just smiled at me, this terrible and joyous thing, this look of sick amusement in his eyes.

Like… it was funny that I would even try.

And before I could even process what his refusal to die even meant, he stepped closer to me then, his nightmarish face coming to rest on my shoulder as his cold grasp rested on my hand.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with all the grace of a bow to an audience, he ripped off my hand as surely as if it had never been there, shaking it through the air like it was a toy rather than a blood soaked palm with wild fingers flailing.

Looking on in horror, I just held the stump to my chest as the beast stepped back from me with this childish glee to his gait. 

And with a last twisted look to my face, he threw the hand off of the ship, the waves swallowing it whole as he gave a demented smile to me in parting. 

It was as I cried out from the surprisingly violent pain, that all went silent around me, not a single breath aside from my own filling the air.

The boy in jade rags was gone, as were all of his minions, and everyone that I had come to know was just as dead as they had been.

I was utterly alone aside from the bodies of the dead, lost and adrift in the waves after a fool’s errand to find fortune in the death of those that had suffered before us.

Now, we shared their fate, and I was the sole survivor of yet another burial at sea at the hands of a beast far more cruel than I had imagined. 

I had lost, and yet another ship had been lost to the laughing demon.

And the ship began to sink.

* * *

_“The Second Star to The Right, Shines in The Night, for You..”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lost Boy’s Log:  
> So, I’ve been carrying two separate story ideas while I’ve been writing Jackpot, both lives inspired by fairy tales.  
> One, a horror tale based on the seas and the land where no one grows up.  
> The other, a more light hearted f/f story in a land where nothing makes sense.  
> I flipped a coin to decide which to write first, the other being held off till later.  
> It landed on heads, so Till Morning was brought to light.  
> I really wanted to write a story with a bit more grit and seriousness than Jackpot, and thus we have arrived here.  
> Hope you’ve enjoyed.  
> -Oscar


	2. Whispers in the Dark

**LIFE 13: TILL MORNING**

* * *

“Another drink Hook?” That smarmy bastard said as he always did, the bastard just holding the bottle out as I walked into his pub, for he knew I’d be back.

“Go fuck yourself Symon.” I just growled out as I shrugged out of my coat, the heavy leather leaving my shoulders aching as I settled at the bar, the Scotsman merely laughing at me in turn as he began pouring me a glass.

“Now then, lemme guess. The Governor refused ta give ya a Privateer commission, again.” Symon McCarns said with an empathetic grimace then as he just set the bottle beside me and he encouraged me on then as I could only nod in turn.

I had been aching to return to the sea in this life, believing my business on the water was still unresolved. 

Yes, I could pursue any manner of living, perhaps using my talents to work my way into a King’s graces or some other route to nobility.

However, the spirit that I had taken on in this life howled within me, for a desire to travel the seas like no other had ever done, and to seek out the nightmare of any sailor.

I had by some grace of fate survived, a merchant freighter spotting me in the waters after the Sea Devil had sunk, and had been more than glad to send me on my way to England.

My heart had warmed at returning to the country of my birth, but everywhere I went I heard whispers and mutters, both of myself and the fate of my fellows.

Of how I survived where others had not been so lucky, death having smiled on me where it had not been so kind to others.

Why did I survive where others had met their horrid fates to a demon of the deep?

I kept my words short on the shores, refusing to speak of the beast of a child that had driven my time as a pirate short, spreading a tale of piracy and cruelty.

I had found that while men of the sea understood superstitions and the supernatural, the monarchy and those in power refused to believe in monsters.

In the King’s eyes, the real monsters rested in the hearts of men, and he would not pay mind to a monster of a boy that slaughtered noble men and pirates alike. 

However, after being maimed by the little bastard, I was determined to kill it, as I had done to many demons and spirits through my years.

If I could kill the personification of Suffering, I could kill a monster kid.

However, my late childhood had been wrought with pain and gruffness as not a single person thought me capable.

A worker with only one hand was not worth keeping around at all, and not a single governor or viceroy would make a captain of a man with a single hand.

Of course, I had debated making a hand via the Argent Manu conjuration, but with the risk of silver poisoning in the blood… it was a risk too high, along with ensuring I stood out in this world.

In this age of grime and crude mechanics, a sophisticated metal hand would draw too many questions… so I had followed the advice of a woman that had given me company on a cold and lonely night.

I got a hook.

It wasn’t nearly as useless as I had thought, my soft and intricate talents serving me well as I practically layered the thing in Runes, ensuring that it would remain ever sharp and deadly.

As well, upon a single thought it could transform into a nimble and swift blade, ensuring I could always catch my enemy unaware and pierce their chest with nothing but surprise in their eyes.

When locked blade to blade in combat, your enemy never expected a second blade where once there was none. 

“Yes Symon, the Governor refused. He says that a Captain with one hand is not a captain at all.” I growled out as I took the shot of rum, my eyes closing in relief as I let my shoulders relax as the barkeep began pouring me another.

Of course, I could always Imperio the Governor into signing me on, I could be a Captain by the night’s end, but I would not stoop that low.

The Imperius made a slave of any man that stood before me, and as the last to know the spell, it fell on me to let it be forgotten and never to be used again. 

“I’ve no clue why that fool says no. I’ve seen ya fight with that hook, never seen somethin' like it, and besides, Capn Hook has a ring to it, doncha think?” Symon asked of me then, that familiar twisted smile on his face as I just let the barb fly over me and just rolled my eyes. 

Ever seen I had come to Oxfield and I had introduced myself, not a single town’s person called me Harrison Black.

No, how dare I even try to get them to call me something else, because there was only one name on their lips when I passed them, my head tucked down as I always heard the same thing.

Look at him go, Harry Hook, the boy that wasn’t Lost.

And wasn’t that a thing to learn?

In the years since the Sea Devil went down, across England, a passing trend began to occur.

During the late hours of the night, children would open their doors and windows, and disappear.

No one knew what exactly would happen, or why, but it was always the same.

Always boys, never older than twelve, always ones that held active imaginations and dreamt of adventure.

They would disappear in the night, a fearsome fog having enveloped their homes the night before, and according to some rumors… a figure of a boy would appear in the gloom, a boy in green with blazing eyes.

Some called him the Piper, leading the children of Britain away with his honeyed words and talks of dreams and treasure.

However, this was no mere legend, as then the horror stories had become real.

Each and every time a boy would go missing, a year to the day of the disappearance, the boy would appear before his parents.

His skin would be pale and lifeless, his eyes blood red and furious as a horrible and awful grim would split his face from side to side.

He would hold a rusted blade and introduce them to the boy in green, before killing his father with no remorse, starting from the navel and carving his way to the jugular. 

The skin would be loosened from his gut, and then be peeled away as the boy bathed in his blood, the crimson tide being absorbed into the boy’s flesh as their mother would be left crippled and confused as without fault, she would go insane.

Then, with their parents left destroyed in more ways than one, their son would take hold of the other boy’s hand, and the two would fly off into the night.

And he would become Lost, lost to both life and family, and he would never be seen again.

Before long mothers across the nation would be left insane and weary, their minds shattered and childlike as the world passed them by, yet they would not care in the slightest.

Due to their ruined minds and friendly nature in their delusion, some began to call them Fairies, their smiles warm as they spoke of worlds beyond ours and holding wonders beyond understanding.

And yet, they spoke of Him.

The Piper, the Boy, the horrible monster that had taken my hand and been responsible for the deaths of so many… 

They called him Peter.

And I had long since decided that he would die. 

“Thanks for the drink Symon, but I have places to be.” I said with a small smile to the man, grabbing my coat then as I threw a pound to him as he just nodded in turn as he looked to the door waywardly

“I’ll be seeing ya, but do be safe Hook, bad things on the wind lately."

“I welcome them to try.”

* * *

“Governor Darling, what a surprise to catch you out this late.” I said with no small amount of snark in my smile as I cornered the pudgy man outside his office, the man obviously wanting to be off and home before nightfall.

However, I had been denied too long to head back to the Maidan’s Embrace for the night, and wanted that beautiful Privateer’s commission. 

The governor merely looked at me in disdain then as I laughed and fell in beside him as we walked through the town square, Mortimer Darling likely wishing he had anyone aside from me at his side.

“Of all the filth and cretins to encounter in the night, of course I find you Hook…” The man said with scorn in his tone as I just laughed and let a sense of anger fill my eyes and began to scratch my chin with my hook, the edge softening then as it became no worse than a prop before sharpening as soon as I let it fall. 

“Now then Governor, that’s not polite. I thought you claimed to be a man of honor and valor, and yet to refuse me of that which I deserve for the stupid reason of believing me useless, yet if you merely looked at me truely, you would see me more capable than all the ship rearing fools you employ.” I snarked back at him then, his eyes taking their turn to roll as we strolled forward, a light rain beginning to dispel from the skies as we went on towards the Governor’s estate.

“We have been over this time and again Black, no captain can sail with only a single hand, and I will allow no weakened man to serve under my banner, let alone a loose cannon to pillage and voyage freely such as yourself.” Darling said then with no facade to his words, his eyes firm and sharp as he made it clear and evident what he truly thought of me, merely a disabled ex-pirate in his eyes.

I suppose that is what I would be, if I had not held the soul of a pseudo-immortal that held knowledge and powers beyond that of the mortal realm and secrets than any man would beg to know.

“Loose of a cannon I may be, Governor, but you have need of me in such troubling times. You have heard the tales Darling, just as we all have, and you know well enough the threat that we face. I have seen the Boy, he left me to die in deep waters and doomed me to a fate that you yourself help force upon me, and I will not rest until he pays for his misdeeds.” I explained them with a fire to my eyes that I had few times before felt, pushing aside the disbelief that filled the man’s eyes at the mention of the supernatural terror that plagued us, and I would not allow him to cling to this misguided avoidance of the truth.

He was much like Fudge in that regard and I would not allow him to run Oxfield into the ground by ignoring the obvious, as whereas a boy would disappear once a month, it had evolved to a child a week.

I knew that if this did not end, it would become a boy a day, and in no time at all England would fall to that bastard’s hands.

And Britain would be Lost.

“Piper Peter is a myth, made up to excuse the loss of runaways and grieving parents, and I will not entertain your wild conspiracies Black, and I will ask you to leave me be. Do not bother coming around my office or home again, for I will not sign you a commission. Goodbye, Captain Hook.” The bastard said with a sharp grin then as we stood before the estate, the wrought iron gate slamming shut behind him as he marched off in the fog and I was left alone in the shimmering night. 

“I will not let you ruin this nation.” I said to the wind then, my eyes tracing the dark clouds then as I swore I saw a figure soar past the moon’s light, and I knew I was watched by a figure beyond the understanding of close-minded men like the Governor.

I was not ready yet, as he had said years before.

* * *

I found myself more times than often drinking away in Symon’s pub, the Rigid Siren being a welcoming place despite the name and the barkeep’s equally abrasive personality, but it was a warm place of kindred spirits and none there judged me for my machinations.

It was then as I swore and complained of Darling’s stupidity and the fact that as he stalled me, more and more of Britain suffered and bled as that flying fuck stole away children for his army of the undead, that I found a man joining me at my usual booth. 

An older man clear to see from the gray tainting his brown locks, I looked past his crescent moon glasses to see an interested, yet tired man.

And yet, he gave this uncertain and determined smile to me.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, dear sir.” I said with a slight laugh then as he made himself comfortable beside me, the man pulling free a small book of sorts, a photo album from the seems of it judging by his flipping past of fogged photos.

He stopped then as he landed upon a photograph of two young boys in sailor suits, one standing over the other as they smiled so warmly and softly, the younger blinking his eyes likely from the camera flash as the older held back a laugh.

It was clear to see they were brothers judging by the closeness I felt from the photo, but I understood now why this stranger had approached me, as I recognized the curve of his face in the older of the boys, guessing that the boy couldn’t have been older than twelve years.

The age that the Boy tended to ignore.

“He took your brother, didn’t he?” I asked quietly and softly as the man tucked the album away, his sorrowful eyes finally meeting mine as I began to pour him a drink from the bottle Symon had left as I was sure my new friend would need one.

“His name was Charles, he had been six at the time. Full of life and dreams of working with animals… I loved my brother more than anything in the world, and that little bastard took him from me… I was there the night he took him, that… that boy just looked to me in the doorway, and smiled at me. He said… he said that he would see me again.” The man sputtered out then, obviously distraught as I just lay my remaining hand on his shoulder, trying to provide whatever comfort I could give to a fellow survivor. 

“And then, he brought him back, some time later… but he wasn’t my Charlie, my brother had been eaten up by this monster, a pale spector wearing my brother’s face… had come to carve up our father and feed off his life… our mother called him a Lost Boy, and when I asked her what she meant, she said Peter took him to Neverland.” He muttered then as he drank of the rum generously as he stared off through the window, the night’s shine beginning to creep in as another day went spoiled as figures in the shadows haunted us all. 

“Neverland…?” I asked in turn, having never heard of such a place in any map or star chart as the man just grimaced and sat back in his chair, his grey eyes seeking the ceiling above as an odd air fell over us.

“My mother, in this light and soft voice… She used to say that to get to Neverland, one must simply follow the second star to the right, and follow straight on till morning.” He told me then, pain clear to see on his face as the thought of his mother so broken and lost must hurt him greatly.

I know if I had experienced such a thing to any of my previous mothers, I would feel such a pain indeed, and I could only pity the man.

“Straight on till morning… I know not of this land you speak of, but I should like to go there, to put a stop to the menace both you and I have been wronged by.” I said in turn as I drew the man from his thoughts, a smile growing on him as my words spoke of a strength that he likely had desired. 

“I am aware, there is much talk of you Harrison Black. You are popular among the people of England, even if it is because of your foolishness, but I believe you the best bet of my seeing my brother avenged and put to rest.” He said with such belief that I almost believed myself capable of getting to this land beyond the land, where monsters and the undead live between journeys to ravage our own. 

“You never told me your name, friend?” I reminded him then as we settled into a sense of calm comadary as our bottle ran dry and the world around us drifted back into notice as we now shared a sense of determination.

“No, I suppose I have not. Ellis Smee, at your service sir.” He said as he held a hand aloft to me then as I could only return the gesture, a small smile growing on me as did he. 

“Well then, I am-“

“I know, Captain Hook, right?” 

“I suppose I am.”

* * *

I had parted from my new friend then, my restless spirit leading me from the pub and far from my home in the inn, and carrying my feet onward and to a place I was told not to tread to.

The Governor’s estate sat before me, quiet and solemn as the world around me fell silent and the night drew on as I felt a growing sense of unease. 

Letting myself through the gate then, ignoring the sound I left in my wake, I knew that the night was not as usual, and that there lingered a cold within the otherwise stately home.

And yet, this feeling that drew me forward did not lead me towards the door of the home, nor imploring me to enter.

No, my feet found themselves walking around the yard then as the back of the home came into sight along with the elaborate garden that the Governor’s wife so carefully cultivated.

It was then that I heard mutterings in the night, sweet whispers on the breeze that had my blood chilling as I knew that voice that spoke of skies and lands unconquered. 

“Nothing will stop you… you never have to grow up there… Come with me friend… Neverland awaits…” That cold, unfeeling voice said aloud as I looked to the back door of the estate, often locked and barred (As I had often tried to enter to discuss my privateer commission with the governor) yet now open, and the form of the Governor’s son stepped from the home.

Little George Darling stood there in his nightclothes, the boy’s eyes dazed and cold much akin to that of the Imperius as he stepped out to face the winds of the night and emerge into the open.

I knew that the horrible bastard that I had sought out now hovered in hiding, as I had heard his whispers and felt his presence, and I refused to allow him yet another victim.

“Incarcerous!” I cried out then in the night as a bright beam of light flew from my palm, the small boy finding ropes suddenly binding his form as he fell to the ground, his eyes growing alert as he began to cry.

The boy now safe and secure, I looked out into the shadows in search of my otherworldly enemy, only to feel a presence exert itself against my back.

I froze as I felt a hand grab my arm then and a face press itself against my back, what would normally be an act of affection now unnerving and tense.

“He was mine. He was MINE. I let you go. The next we meet, I shall not be so kind. I await you beyond…” That horrible, grinding voice said with none of the honeyed sweetness he had used for the child, the cold brutality returned as horrid nails dug into the flesh of my arm.

With my hook turning to a blade, I swung it behind me then in attack, aiming to spear the bastard through the gut… only to find nothing and no one.

Taking a breath then, I merely cast the counter spell onto the young Darling boy along with a warming charm for good measure, whispering calming words as I saw his frightened father stumble out of the house.

“Hook? What happened… His room was covered in blood and…” The man said then in shock as he rushed forward and took his son into his arms, the boy surprised and wondering what had happened and why his father was so afraid.

I just placed a hand on the man’s shoulder then as I locked eyes with him, his jaw clenching as his eyes grew worried. 

“I believe we have things to discuss, Governor, and time to make you regret telling me to stay away.”

"Inside, now…”

* * *

_" To Tell You That The Dreams You Plan, Really Can Come True…"_


	3. Shadows on The Wind

**LIFE 13: TILL MORNING**

* * *

“He’s real then… this Piper Peter…” Governor Mortimer Darling said with an empty quality to his voice, the man’s eyes going dark as he poured himself a drink from an elegant cabinet, the wine falling like blood into the glass as his eyes looked all but at my own. 

I merely found myself leaning against the wall of the room, my eyes darting to the door every so often as I still felt that bizarre presence, even after the flying bastard had fled, my nerves alight in the fragile peace. 

“Many things are real that common men fear to accept, Governor. And yet, us few enlightened and unfortunate fools must struggle forth while the ignorant bustle.” I said to him in turn, a weak smile rising on my face as I recalled Professor Moven, and all the horrors his studies had brought forth for both he and I.

Unfortunate fools, all of us.

“You’re quite wise for a man that’s haunted by a literal monster.” Darling said with a snark as he downed another shot and looked off into the distance, the stairs upward his goal as his son’s room rested after there.

The boy had put up some fuss upon our entrance into the estate, but had fallen to sleep with little fuss, the long hours of the night and sufficient grogginess ensuring he struggled very little. 

“I have dealt with my fair share of monsters Governor, and while none were quite like this one, he is a monster nonetheless, and any monster can be slain.” I said as my smile grew, my eyes unknowingly taking on a shine as the man simply looked at me as if I had gone insane.

“You know how to kill the bastard?” He asked of me then, a hope flying to his voice as he lowered the glass as I merely scratched the back of my head in a slight sense of shame. 

“Haven’t the foggiest idea, but he is a monster, and monsters always die at the end of the story, Governor.” I said then as he merely made a rude gesture and returned to his drink as I just shrugged off his renewed scorn.

“By God… Queen and Country are at risk from an unholy beast, and my best hope is a madman with a hook…” The man said under his breath as I just smiled at him even brighter before he buckled under my gaze.

“I will sign your commission, ensure you make Privateer, and give you the means to chase that beast, but there are complications to your plan.” The Governor said then as my grin faltered and the grim reality began to sink back in, my inflated glee at having the man see through his misconceptions falling apart under his worried gaze.

“Complications?”

“While I can surely get you made a Privateer, no vessel rests for you to sail upon. From the King sending armies of criminals off to plunder and pillage under his banner, to the Vice Admiral foolishly sending men off to seek a myth of a pirate cove, no British ship remains for you here.” Darling explained then as he finished his shot and I looked at him with a curious gaze, as he left it open-ended there and I easily caught on.

“So, there rests a ship that doesn’t fly a British flag then?” I asked him with a fraction of my smile returned and the man simply sighed as he looked once more towards his child’s room, his eyes eventually falling onto me in a look of desperation.

“There was a fool that entered the port some days ago, recruiting sailors for his ‘Band of Merry Men.’ He was quite obviously a pirate of illegal means, and was detained along with his vessel. The ship should still be in the harbor.” Darling said as he hung his head as I pulled free the document from my coat, one spelled to avoid damage or crumpling, as one could not be too careful in such a dangerous time.

With one last loathful look to me, he signed on the line below, and my smile returned in full mast. 

_I, Governor Mortimer Darling decree that Harrison James Black has done a service to Britain and its forces, and license him to serve Britain and its navy as a Privateer of the Crown_

“You shall not regret this Governor.” I said with a serious nod then as he only grabbed hold of my coat then, his eyes pleading as he sought mine.

“That thing… will it return?”

“It… it said your boy was his, emphasis on was. I believe I ruined the fun of his conquest and can only assume he has moved on, but I advise you to hire a guard or two for your son, to ensure he does not wander off during the night.” I advised her then as the man only nodded then as I took my fresh commission into my hands, and could not help the feeling of savage glee within me.

I was so close to setting off, and finally beginning my search for that flying fucker… 

I was so close.

* * *

I reached the harbor with some quick time, my thrill at being at my moment of salvation holding me fast as I traversed with the feelings of eyes on my back the entire journey.

Until at last I reached the aged harbor, fishing vessels of many kinds sat tethered and useless in the dark of the night, but there… at the edge of the docks, and tied firmly to it, was a large and fearsome vessel.

A ship of some size, even eclipsing the Marauder in size, it towered over me as its crimson sails flowed in the winds as I stepped closer to it, my hand flying forward to free it from its binds.

It was then, that I registered a presence behind me.

Half expecting that monster to be present, I wasted no time in changing my hook once more to a blade as I turned on the spot only to find the man from the bar before me, his hands raised high.

“Smee, you frightened me, I must say.” I said with a nod as I let my blade disperse then as the man eased his tension then, his eyes falling back to a calculating gaze.

“Your instincts are well founded Hook, with all I have seen it does one well to react on the spot, but I will say that I have followed you for some time this night.” Smee said to me with a wistful smile as he stepped closer to the ship with a curious gaze.

“And your attention was warranted for what reason, as you did not seem fit to grace me with your presence my friend.” I asked in turn then, as I did not think highly or fondly of fellows following me unaware in the night, no matter how much I resonated with them.

“Nothing malicious, I assure you my young friend. No, I merely saw your leaving the Governor’s estate with a determined look to you, and after learning of your struggles to obtain your commission, I assumed you had succeeded.” The older man surmised to me then as he turned an amused eye before the look fell away as I stepped beside him.

“You assumed right my friend, but no vessel could be given to me. Thus, this beautiful beast has fallen into my hands.” I said with a fond look as I looked to it with affection, the frightening image of a sea serpent resting as its figurehead along with the dark wood that comprised the ship itself. 

“So then Captain, when do we set sail in search of Neverland?” Smee asked me then as I could do nothing but gawk at him as I began a quiet laugh in turn as the man fell along with me.

“When did we become partners then Smee?” I asked of the man then as he only smiled warily at me in the moonlight. 

“You believe that I would let you have the pleasure of revenge alone? No, I want that creature dead as much as you, and I shall not let you have the honor alone. Besides, I do believe a captain needs a First Mate.” Smee said to me as I merely looked back to the flowing sails, the black flag atop almost smiling down at us as the moon’s light shined past it, the light obscured by its shadow. 

“Is this you applying for the position then Smee?” I asked of him with a smile as the man only came forward to rest a hand against the bow of the mighty ship as he smiled back at me.

“You have a reputation Hook, and few others would put up with you. I believe I fit the requirements, or should I help you look for another as skilled or aware as I?” Smee asked sarcastically then as I only turned over the idea in my head, and accepted that he would desire revenge as well, and I could not in good faith deny him it.

“Then Mister Smee, welcome to the crew.” I said to him as his hand came forward as mine did the same, the two of us shaking hands in the dark of the night as morning drew near.

“Glad to be aboard Captain, but does she have a name?” Smee asked of me then, as I found myself caught off guard as I had not actually checked for it, my eyes falling on its features rather than its name.

“I had not thought to check.” I admitted as I stepped closer, my eyes straining to see through the gloom as I looked up at the ship as the moon's light fell perfectly upon it, the name now revealed to my gaze as surely as my own hands.

_Jolly Roger_

* * *

“So… the Captain has his ship, but do you have your courage?”

A voice, so familiar and so chilling that my heart nearly stopped, a figure stood within the captain’s quarters of my nicely obtained vessel.

However, my surprise gave way to confusion, as the person before me was not the flying monster that I had started this entire crusade to destroy.

Where filthy red hair and green rags should be, dark locks and drab dressings hung on this boy, his eyes an endless void of black that drew eyes like water to a whirlpool. 

“You look like the monster, but you aren’t… Who might you be?” I asked cautiously as I slowly sat up on my bunk, the metal of my hook shimmering in the early morning light as the figure drew closer to me, oblivious to any sort of threat from my person. 

Completely aloof. 

“One could easily call me a monster, a beast of horrific origins… But I exist in much simpler terms Hook. I exist across the world, and follow every soul until their dying day, even you.” The creature said with a hint of a smile then, the horrible eyes of his all too easy of a target to lose oneself, and I could strangely feel my mind being… tested, by the beast before me.

With a growl, I brought my hook beneath the thing’s chin, perhaps unwisely, but I had quite enough of monstrous children for one night… 

“You will tell me what you’re doing here, and what connection you have to the monster they call Peter…” 

And here, with my blade baying for his blood and my mind eager for some answers at last, the beast merely smiled at me with a sinister gaze.

“Oh yes Hook, I will tell you.” 

And before my confused eyes, the boy melted away into what appeared to be tar, bleeding away beneath the boards of my cabin’s floors, vanished like a spirit… 

“Smee!” I called out to the chamber over one, my first mate having taken the study of the ship for his own, the older man’s head peeking groggily from the doorframe.

“Hook, have you finally lost it?” 

“I… I think I saw something…”

* * *

**The Tiring Crock Inn, Oxfield**

* * *

Unbeknownst to the newly dubbed captain and those that may have been concerned by him, Olimar Kent had only wanted to open shop for the day without any more strangeness.

He had housed many in the recent days, those poor few that feared the ghost stories of the depths and believed that company would alleviate them of any spirit’s vengeance. 

Olimar was not a superstitious man by any sort, but he knew well enough to be wary when ships and men turned up drowned and dead, and he knew even better to lock his doors at night.

What concerned him, was how a woman came to be in his lobby when he had yet to even open.

She wasn’t a customer of his, he knew all that rented rooms for the month, and this woman was definitely not one of them, nor someone he had ever met before.

“Madame… I’m afraid I must ask you to leave, I haven’t opened up yet.” He asked of her in his civilized manner, while pondering the front door… which now rested as only a pile of kindle and glass shards… 

“One mustn’t be too polite you know, for it is only warranted to fear that which frightens you Olimar.” The woman said then in an airy crescendo, the man’s nerves frantic as he finally took in her appearance in the daunting morning light.

Blonde hair ruffled and mussed worse than any bird’s nest, eyes an animalistic and dull shade of blue, almost like all life had long left her orbs. 

Her clothes a ragged robe of white, the sleeves and chests stained scarlet in what he could only assume was blood… And he finally noticed the axe in her left hand, the edge caked in what appeared to be gristle and specks of flesh torn asunder. 

“Now you see the picture, do you not, Olimar? There are far more things to be frightened of than mere thieves… My husband was right to be afraid, you remind me of him.” She sung to him then as she slowly drew closer, the axe held lovingly to her chest as he backed himself against the wall, that hellish gaze of hers lighting his mind on fire as he struggled to breath anything but the rancid rot of her. 

“He believed our boy could not be saved, but Peter proved him wrong… He always does, but I suppose you wouldn’t know that Olimar… You are quite so lonely.” She whispered to him softly as her lips drifted close to his, his eyes panicked as what should have been an alluring sight was made a nightmare by the axe’s face drawing an invisible line across his chest.

“Never had children, did you Olimar?” At this he slowly nodded, his eyes watering as he felt her slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, his breath halted as his brain began to scream at him to run.

To escape this mad woman before he ended up like her presumably dead husband, and to avoid being yet another stain on his floor… 

Almost as if impatient, she tore his shirt from his body, the cold morning gale piercing his flesh as she now ran the axe’s face across his chest.

“Peter mourned that he couldn’t meet you Olimar…but he was not without mercy… He told me about you.” She muttered against his neck now, her lips like live wire on his skin as he pressed himself further into the wall, already realizing there was no escape for him now, the axe hovering above his very heart.

He realized who she spoke of now, Piper Peter, the ghost that Hook kept spouting about… Perhaps the man wasn’t as mad as he thought.

“He told me that it is unfair, that some don’t get to meet him… but he said I could be the in between…. I could give you magic, Olimar.” She pressed a kiss to his jugular then as he closed his eyes, the bite of the axe teasing his skin as he let out a prayer under his breath. 

She heard him.

“I’m afraid not even Mother Mary could save you now Olimar… but perhaps I can.” She whispered sharply to him as his eyes once more met his, and he felt his skin ripple from her gaze, his chest freezing like cold fallen from the fire. 

“Please don’t...” 

“I like my men quiet, Olimar.” 

Before he could even scream, the axe carved clear through his chest in a single motion, the woman cleaving through him as if she had flown as her axe now stood clear through his back.

Crimson tides wept from his heart as she stared into his eyes with her soulless orbs, the light leaving his until they began to look almost as dead as hers.

“Believe in me Olimar.” She almost begged of him then as he began to sputter out blood, his eyes pleading for mercy that she would not give as she almost did the same. 

“I…” 

“Believe in me.” 

And with that, his soul left his form and the woman was left alone in the Inn, her axe firmly lodged in the wall, the handle piercing through Olimar’s lung or some other vital organ.

She never paid attention to the delicates, merely what would provide that spark that she so craved, what would appease him most. 

And like the spirit she so praised, she was gone almost as swiftly as she had arrived, Olimar left to be found in some hours by the mother from down the hall.

The men from the pub would joke later, Olimar, the eternal bachelor, dead of a broken heart. 

They wouldn’t be laughing when half of Oxfield would fare the same fate. 

Nothing would explain why the grisly murders would happen, but one man was quite interested by the news, of a repeated phrase scrawled in blood whenever the bodies would show up next.

A phrase of some concern, and one worth looking into. 

**_BELIEVE IN ME_ **

* * *

_“The Second Star to The Right, Shines With a Light so Rare...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lost Boy's Log:  
> So, it's been ages. I've sat for the first half of this chapter for a month. I have a new cover image on chapter 1. Have a great day. 
> 
> -Oscar


End file.
